My Shiny New Arm?
by I Am Awesomely Original
Summary: (2p!Verse GermanyxPrussia) Gilbert is subservient to his younger brother, Ludwig. Always has been, and always will be, as the Prussian suffers from chronic shyness and is frightened of his taller, beefier, more robust sibling. Prussia has a robotic prosthetic leg, which hinders his speed, built by Ludwig after The Great War (World War One). A simple story of their relationship.
1. Chapter 1

AN:

Summary: 2p!Germany x 2p!Prussia. Using original names because, 1) I'm too lazy to search for actual canon names/fanmade names and 2) I don't want to make up my own names.

Gilbert is subservient to his younger brother, Ludwig. Always has been, and most always will be, as the Prussian suffers from chronic shyness and is frightened of his taller, beefier, more robust sibling. Prussia has a robotic prosthetic leg, which hinders his speed, built by Ludwig after The Great War (World War One). A simple story of their relationship and how Gilbert gains his prosthetic arm.

Set a little after WW1 but before WW2 ( 1920's )

The sun peeped cautiously into the small, dark room through the curtains and glinted off of the floor mirror occupying the corner. The arc of light bounced about the room before landing on the pile of blankets on the bed. The mound shifted, warmed perhaps by the weak light offered, and a smallish head poked out, shielding its eyes from the suns ray.

The blankets were sleepily shifted to the side, revealing a young lean man clothed in cotton pyjamas. This man slipped quietly out of bed, not a peep, a yawn, or any stretching for that matter, and opened the curtains fully, allowing winters sun to fully illuminate his room. Now he stretched and completed any after waking routine that he had, twisting and pulling any kinks from his neck.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked at his alarm clock, reading five thirty four on the clocks hands, and grimaced. He always woke up around five thirty, even when he was allowed to sleep in. A habit, he supposed, long ingrained from looking after his brother. Banishing any thought of his brother and sleep from his mind, he wriggled his toes.

All five of them. The other five, however, simply shifted up and down slowly, being as they were metal and prosthetic. He had lost half his leg in The Great War, and his brother, in a rare show of kindness, built it for him. It hindered his speed greatly, being stiff, but the 7 years that he had worked with it had paid off with a few tricks.

Sliding to his dresser on the heels of his feet, the man pulled warm socks from the drawer and pulled them up laboriously, thus hiding his metal leg, as well as muffling any clanking that it would make as he walked about the house. He slid out of his bedroom, not much more then a closet really, and completed his morning with a quick brush of his teeth, a washroom break, and a combing of his platinum blonde hair. Finished with his morning absolution's, he went downstairs and entered the kitchen.

"Hallo, Bruder." A familiar voice said from the gloom of the kitchenette table. The man froze, turning the light on to illuminate the figure sitting on the chair.

"H-Hallo, Ludwig..." He responded softly, shocked to see his little brother up so early. Maybe he was up all night. Or he was waiting for him. His racing mind was cut short when he was answered:

"Gilbert," the man's purple eyes seemed to glow with glee as he considered his next words, or was that his imagination? "How are you?"

He stared. He was never asked how he was. Where did this come from then? This must be a trick. Had to be a trick. Gilbert's blue eyes darted about the room, looking for any knives that were within his brothers reach. He saw no glint of shiny metal, and felt reassured.

"I am..I am good, yes...very good." He paused, "A-and you are?"

"Mmm, concerned, mein brother, very concerned." Ludwig's fingers came together in a peak and he gestured with his head towards the only available seating, "Sit down, please."

Cautiously, he sat down, wondering what this was about. His brother shouldn't even be awake at this hour! He should be sleeping and then Gilbert could enjoy 3 hours of him-time and relax before the day began. His brother smirked.

"I'm sure you're asking yourself, what is this about? Your face has always been _so_ easy to read. I was just curious, because, yesterday night, I planned on making myself some coffee, just so I could do some light reading into the night." _This had to be going somewhere_, Gilbert thought despairingly, "And when I looked into the mug cabinet, lo and behold, my favourite mug wasn't there."

The man seized up, thinking, _favourite mug_? What favourite mug? Ludwig used whatever mug was placed in front of him, as long as it had enough liquid to keep him satisfied.

"Yes, Gil, my favourite mug, the white one, with the little, red hand painted hands on it. Italy gave it to me last Christmas. Surely, you who makes me my coffee every morning knows where it went?" The mans voice was sickly sweet, and Gilbert broke out in cold sweat.

"I-I-I'm s-sure it's s-still in the cub-cupboard w-where it w-was left..." He stuttered, shakily making his way to said cupboard and looking inside. He stood on his tiptoes to peer into the back, and saw a glimmer of white and red porcelain, hidden behind towers of other mugs.

"S-see...?" One did not contradict Ludwig lightly, "Your m- mug is right in t-the back..."

"Is it?" He smirked devilishly, and Gilbert thought dismally, _he knew, he knew all along it was there. There was an ulterior motive behind this accusation. _"Could you kindly fetch it for me, then, brother dearest? Since you are already up and you normally have it ready~?"

_Shit_, Gilbert nearly cried. He was already too short to just _look_ into the cupboard, he couldn't get the mug without aid from a stool, or a chair. But he saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Ludwig had his feet upon the only chair he could use for a lift. He'd just have to struggle for it. Carefully, ever so carefully, the man started to lift mugs down to clear space. He wasn't about to drop ALL the mugs upon the floor, then that would surely result in punishment. One tower of mugs, two towers of mugs, three towers of mugs...he heard Ludwig cough impatiently behind him and hastened his clearing.

...Five, Six...there! The mug sat right in the back, clean and ready to be used once again. Balancing his weight on his real foot, Gilbert attempted to get the lift he needed to hook the mug out of the cupboard. His fingers clawed uselessly at it's shiny surface, offering no handholds for him to use. It was just too far out of his reach. The man slumped back down, and and then repeated, stretching his arm out, his fingers just barely brushing it, nearly there, nearly there...!

"Let me help you with that."

Suddenly, Gilbert was lifted from his hips and had the lip of the counter pressed against his thighs. He squeaked in bewilderment and stared at his brother, who merely smiled at him, his purple eyes dark with...something. Gilbert was frightened by the look he was being given and just focused upon his task. Just retrieve the mug, make the coffee and then he could disappear for an hour. The man leaned forwards to get the stupid mug and felt his brothers hips pressed tight against his buttocks. It wasn't hard for the blonde haired man to feel Ludwig's stiff erection through the thin cotton of his pyjamas.

Lust. That was what that emotion must have been. Gilbert was not prepared for...such activities. The roundabout way that Ludwig had forced this upon him was new to him, and he had no defences. No lies of, "I'm tired" or "It won't be fun tonight because I'm too preoccupied".

"W-what are you d-doing, bruder..?" He asked, just to have something to say to break the awkward silence between them.

"What does it look like? I'm going to bend you over and fuck you raw. Have you been counting the days that have gone by since I've gotten a lay from you?" Gilbert shook his head quickly, "I have, and it's been a few weeks. That's a little long for me, dearest brother, so, I would just shut your mouth and deal with it."

"Will you be rough?" The words popped out of nowhere, a small, childish whine without the hint of his usual stutter. Ludwig looked startled at the innocence in his brothers tone, the shimmer of tears and the way Gilbert held himself to ward away any attacks upon his flesh. He was almost tempted to say no.

Almost.


	2. Chapter 2

AN:

Set a few weeks after the first scene.

Also, I don't write smut. I'm just not comfortable writing it, and I don't want to screw it up.

* * *

Monday was always Gilbert's favourite day. It was the day that his brother went in early and came home late so that he could get ahead in the box on his desk. Simply, this meant the blonde could relax for an entire day without worrying that his brother would randomly start to tease and torture him. An entire day! He almost hugged himself with glee at the thought of it.

Even though this was happened every Monday, every week of every month, the rest of the days were crappy enough to make this day special, every time it rolled around. Gilbert's mind whizzed through all the things he could do today. He could get caught up in his readings, maybe make cinnamon rolls, he could thoroughly clean the entire house...

Ah. Chores, right. Chores first, then the day was his. The man rolled out of bed, quickly dressing in a button down and a comfy pair of slacks. His metal leg made quiet thumping sounds upon the hardwood floor as he booted down to the main floor to begin his day. First, he would clean the kitchen, then both the bathrooms, then tidy the bedrooms, do the laundry, sweep and scrub the floors, make a grocery list for tomorrow- Tuesday was always grocery day- do any baking for the week, clean all the dishes, and then generally tidy the house.

Gilbert's heart sank. There was no way he could get all that done today, let alone early enough to have time for himself. However, he wasn't someone to get sloppy with his chores. He knew what a dirty dish, or even crumbs on the table could do to his brother. "Someone deserves a beating~" Ludwig would sing, brandishing his leather belt threateningly. Steeling himself, the man attacked his chores with gusto.

Within hours, floors, counters, and walls sparkled with cleanliness, and the house smelt of lemon scented detergent. The washing machine whirled away at the first load of laundry, and the oven had just been filled with the second batch of blueberry muffins. Gilbert stretched happily. It was noon now, and he had woken up at nine am. In an hour, he decided, he'd take a break as long as the oven was off, and nap for a few hours, then delve right back into it. But right now, as he waited for the muffins to finish baking, he grabbed his book from the couch side table and cuddled into the plushy sofa.

His eyes roved through the words on the page, the book well worn from countless readings. It seemed every time he read the book, he found something new that delighted him. The characters were familiar and well liked, and the story itself was involving. He ate the book up, flying through the chapters, enjoying the quiet time without jumping at every noise.

The smell of warm blueberry muffins started to seep throughout the house, and Gilbert closed his book slowly, his mind still swirling with the last exciting chapter he had read. Putting the book back neatly on the side table, the man hurriedly went to the kitchen to check on his muffins. Finding them cooked through and having a nice dome to them, Gilbert put his oven gloves on and pulled the delicious treats from the oven, placing them gingerly beside their cooled brothers. Taking a spoon, he started to ease the fragile goods from their cast iron sheathing so that they would be easier to pluck and put into the cookie jar.

As he waited for them to cool enough to do so, he started to clean prep dishes and to wipe the counter of any crumbs and dough. He hummed happily and shook the dirty cloth out, hanging it upon the tap to dry. He climbed downstairs to rotate the laundry, and then climbed all the way upstairs so that he could tidy the rooms. The repeated the cycle again and again, going downstairs to do laundry, and check on his baked goods, then back upstairs to finish the rooms. His leg started to ache on him, and was getting heavier and heavier as he got more and more tired from walking up and down the stairs.

He rubbed his face tiredly, as he put the last pan away properly, and surveyed his work. The house gleamed from head to foot, and all the baked goods were put away into the easily accessible cookie jars. Satisfied that the house didn't have a speck of dust in it, he decided that he could have that nap he had completely missed with all the laundry.

Dragging his tired body up the stairs, Gilbert happily fell into his fresh bed and wriggled about onto the comforters. His head hit the pillow and he lay there, contentedly staring at the wall for a few minutes, clearing his mind of distracting thoughts and focusing on sleeping.

_Just for a few hours, _he thought sluggishly, _just for a few..._

He nodded off before he could complete that thought.

His dreams were filled with dirt. He was in a giant room, wearing nothing but cotton pyjamas, a room that was filled with muck. The room was huge, with giant tables, chairs, all of the furniture dwarfed him. Armed with only a giant toothbrush, Gilbert had to scrub the entire room in a few short hours or face the wrath of his brother. He scrubbed, scrubbing at the floor with a toothbrush much too big, in a room that was much too big with way too much dirt. As he worked, he started to sweat, the clock was ticking. Louder. Louder. His sweat started to fill the room, washing the dirt away but nearly drowning him.

"Brother." His brother appeared, plucking him from the soupy sweat and mud mixture. He started to cry, he hadn't made the deadline.

"Brother." Ludwig repeated, louder, shaking him roughly.

"Awaaaii-" Gilbert woke up in his brother's clutches, jerking about until his brother figured out he was awake.

"Oh good, you're awake." He said, forever Captain obvious. He let go of the blonde and let him flop onto his pillows, "I have something for you." Gilbert watched his brother warily. Presents could range from beatings to the rare actual present. His brother rummaged into his pocket and pulled out a piece of red cloth. No, not a cloth. An arm band.

"Everyone's wearing them now, since that new party came into power." Ludwig handed it over, and Gilbert gingerly slipped it onto his right arm. The rich red fabric was interrupted by a black and white swastika enclosed by a black and white circle. He traced his finger delicately over the rim and looked curiously up at his brother.

"In case you go out. For groceries or whatever. Since I won't be around to watch over you and keep you safe." Gilbert nearly laughed. Keep him safe? He wasn't even safe in his own home, and no fabric would change that.

"I have my own uniform, new, I need you to wash and iron it for when I go to work to meet my new boss tomorrow." Gilbert nodded, swinging his legs off the bed and getting up. His brother was mere inches from him, and he jolted, hoping it wouldn't be a repeat of yesterday. Gilbert stood still, staring at his brothers chest, and saw vaguely as Ludwig seemed confused on what to do. He saw his brothers feet shift and then...

He felt his brothers lips on his lightly, and his mind didn't react until they parted mere seconds later. Ludwig spun on his heel and near marched out of the room, leaving his brother in shock behind him. A kiss? And a light one at that. _There must be something up_, Gilbert thought, gingerly touching his fingers to his lips. He smiled, almost mischievously, and he left the room in his brothers footsteps to clean and press the uniform.


End file.
